But then she heard some words that stopped her.
“Please don’t say that. I love you. I want you in my life. Everything is, you know, different now.”
Savannah warred with her conscience. She didn’t like to eavesdrop. Granny had always taught her, “Don’t do anything to others that you wouldn’t want done to you.”
She figured that probably included snooping.
But the investigator in her head spoke louder than the memory of Gran’s words when it said, “To heck with that! This could be good stuff here. You don’t wanna miss a word of it!”
So, she listened and heard, “We’re going to put all that behind us. Please. I need you.”
Whatever the person on the line said in reply, Savannah assumed it was encouraging because Carolyn’s voice sounded far lighter and happier when she said, “Oh, good! Thank you! I’m so relieved. We’re going to work hard at forgetting all that unpleasantness. Things are going to be much better from now on. You’ll see.”
There was another pause as Carolyn listened. Then she ended the conversation with “Okay, great. Thanks again. I’ll see you there. Bye.”
Quickly, Savannah took a few steps back into the kitchen, where she took a spoon from the drawer and began to stir her coffee, doing her best to appear busy.
She could hear Carolyn’s steps as she made her way across the living room. A moment later, she entered the kitchen.
“Hi,” Savannah said. “You’re all done with your bath?”
“Yes, and I’m smelling like a bouquet of roses. Or, jasmine as the case might be.”
An awkward, silent moment passed between them, both women recalling what had transpired before. Finally, Carolyn said, “Did you get your friend with the broken stroller on her way?”
“Yes. I did, and she’s mortified beyond belief. She’s really a sweetheart, and if you knew her, you—”
“I’m sure that if she’s one of your closest friends and a member of your family, she’s a wonderful person. I’m sorry she feels so bad about it. She doesn’t have to. No harm was done.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m going to have to get used to things like that being said behind my back. Probably even to my face. Hopefully, not by anyone who truly matters to me, whose opinion I value.”
Savannah studied her friend’s expression, trying to read her. But either Dr. Carolyn Erling was particularly skilled at donning a neutral, poker face under difficult circumstances. Or she was one of the most stoic souls Savannah had ever met.
“Just one day at a time, Carolyn,” she told her. “One hour or one minute if necessary. But now it’s time for a bit more coffee. Would you like another cup? It’s my own proprietary chicory blend.”
Carolyn hesitated, then said, “All right. It is delicious. Reminds me of some coffee I had in New Orleans. But just one more cup, and then I’ve got to get going.”
“I understand, and I’d be happy to drop you wherever you need to be.”
“I’ve decided to go to work today. But you don’t need to take me to the clinic. I’ll call a car service.”
Savannah handed her a steaming mug of coffee, then pushed the small tray with the creamer and sugar toward her. “You’re my guest, and you won’t be calling any car service. If you really want to go to work, I’ll take you. But I’m sure that nobody would expect it of you, considering.”
Carolyn poured a dollop of creamer into the mug and said, “Maybe not. But I expect it of myself. My patients need me. I can’t turn my back on them just because I had a crummy day yesterday.”
“Okay.” Savannah motioned her toward the living room. “Let’s go sit a spell and have our coffee. Then you can get to the clinic and those ailing critters of yours.”
As both women left the kitchen, Savannah couldn’t stop replaying Carolyn’s words, “. . . just because I had a crummy day.”
She kept thinking, What woman refers to the day her husband died, a day most people would consider one of the worst of their lives, as simply “crummy”?
Maybe Carolyn Erling had a gift for understatement.
Or perhaps, the day before hadn’t been the worst day of her life. Maybe for Dr. Carolyn, it was Independence Day.
* * *
As Savannah drove Carolyn to her veterinary clinic in Savannah’s classic, 1965, red Mustang, the two women had little to say at first. They hardly spoke until they passed the waterfront promenade and looked across the beach to the pier. The normally gentle waves were crashing against the outermost pilings, creating impressive saltwater sprays.
A storm was coming.
Storms weren’t all that common in San Carmelita. Not even gentle showers. Frequent, gentle rain was one of the things that Savannah missed most about Georgia—other than the peach and pecan pies.
But a few times a year, especially in the spring, when the ocean decided it was time to shake up the peaceful little town, it would line up one massive storm after another in the Pacific. One by one they would come onshore, bringing torrential rain with them.
People living on the hills, enjoying their panoramic views of the ocean and coastline, suddenly started to worry about mudslides. Horribly destructive at times, they could tear a mansion off its foundation and carry it down the hill, leaving a crumbled mess on their neighbor’s property.
With equal drama, Momma Nature bombarded the beach dwellers with high tides and massive waves that turned their meticulously decorated living rooms into giant aquariums.
When it was storm season in sunny, sleepy San Carmelita, boredom was the least of anybody’s problems. They were having too much “fun” sandbagging, plugging up roof leaks, shoring up retaining walls to keep their up-the-hill neighbor’s new swimming pool from sliding down into their outdoor firepit area.
“It’s going to be a doozy,” Carolyn said when they saw a particularly giant wave crash into the pier and spray the hearty souls who were strolling along, soaking in the ocean’s intoxicating power, its roar, its fury.
“I like a good storm once in a while,” Savannah said. “At least here, we don’t have to crawl out of bed in the middle of a downpour and go huddle in a dark, flooded ditch while the tornado warning sirens scream.”
Carolyn shuddered. “That sounds dreadful.”
“Not as bad as having to share your shelter with an equally terrified water moccasin or two.” Savannah could feel her skin literally crawl as she spoke the words. “I hate snakes,” she added. “Mostly, because of the memory of those nights.”
Carolyn smiled. “I love snakes.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You have a pet one. Brody loves it, too. Couldn’t wait to show it to Dirk.” She glanced over at Carolyn, whose expression was completely neutral and told her nothing. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” she said. “It’s just a personal preference, or aversion, rather. I’m sure snakes are very nice.”
“You didn’t offend me. A lot of people feel the way you do. If I’d had your experiences, I would probably feel the same way.”
“Oh, good, because I’m lying my butt off here. I don’t really think any of them are nice at all.”
“Maybe one of these days, I could introduce you to my Burmese python. He’s very friendly, cuddlesome even, and an excellent conversationalist. He might change your mind.”
“Someday I might change my mind about Limburger cheese, the screech of nails on a blackboard, or my husband’s snoring, but I’m afraid the snake thing is deeply embedded in my DNA code.”
Abruptly, Carolyn changed the subject. “When do you think I’ll get to go home? I have to at least drop by there today to feed and tend my animals or make arrangements for someone else to.”
Savannah debated whether to give her the shortest answer possible—usually the safest response, if a bit cowardly—or tell her the truth.
It depended on the results of the autopsy that was probably going on at that very moment or might already be finished.
If Dr. Liu found Stephen had expire
d from something like a congenital heart problem, then Carolyn’s return home would be green lit almost instantly. If it was a homicide, heaven only knew when Carolyn would be able to sleep in her own bed again.
Also, Savannah couldn’t help wondering if she, Dirk, and Brody were going to have their overnight guest indefinitely. Under most circumstances, Savannah was most hospitable. She was never happier than when she could house, feed, and entertain one of her fellow human beings.
But she didn’t want to find her husband sleeping in her comfy chair every night for the next week or more, and she didn’t want to have to do so herself.
The chair was soft and invited one to dive into it, stretch out, and let the troubles of the day sink into its overstuffed cushions and armrests. The chintz upholstering was a lovely rose print with vibrant, warm shades of crimson, cinnamon, maroon, and gold. But come bedtime, no chair—comfy, rose-spangled or not—could compare to her bed’s memory foam mattress and bamboo pillows.
“I’m not sure when you’ll get to go home, Carolyn,” she finally admitted. “I’d say that, by tonight, you’ll have a much better idea about what’s going on and what you can expect down the road.”
“Depending upon whether it was natural causes . . . or something else,” Carolyn added in an emotionless monotone that Savannah could only describe as a “flat affect.”
A symptom of depression, she reminded herself. Commonly seen in victims of domestic abuse.
“That’s exactly right,” Savannah replied. “Time will tell.”
“Will you let me know as soon as possible? So that I can make arrangements.”
“Of course you’ll be told. But it will probably be Dirk who gives you that information. It’s his case, after all.”
“Oh, right.” Carolyn smiled. “I keep forgetting that you aren’t on the force with him. You two seem like partners.”
“We were for so long. It’s hard to step out of that role. Gets me in trouble sometimes.”
“I can imagine.”
“But for the most part, he appreciates the help my agency and I give him from time to time. Just as we appreciate it when he assists us. We all work together.”
“That must be nice.”
Savannah heard the pain in Carolyn’s voice, and this time, when she turned to see her facial reaction, she saw tears in her friend’s eyes.
“Sharing your life with a good man can be wonderful, Carolyn,” Savannah said softly. “You’ll see. Once this is all behind you, eventually, you’ll get back out there in the world again. You’ll find there are plenty of fine fellows, any one of whom would bring you a lot of joy, if you’d let him. They aren’t all like your former husband. Thankfully.”
Carolyn shook her head. “The last thing I want right now is another man in my life. I want to be alone. Heal. Try to get back the bits and pieces of myself I’ve lost over the years.”
“You will. I have faith in you.”
“Good,” Carolyn replied. But this time her tone was anything but flat and empty. Her voice was full of sadness, bitterness even, when she added, “Someone needs to have faith in me. Faith in myself is one of the most precious things I’ve given away.”
Chapter 16
When Savannah and Carolyn arrived at the veterinary clinic, Savannah parked the Mustang near the door. But as she turned off the key and started to get out, Carolyn said, “Oh, no. No, you don’t have to walk me in.”
She seemed agitated all of a sudden, and the anxious energy she was giving off made Savannah suspicious. She reminded Savannah of a kid who had eaten half of the snacks in the cookie jar and their mom was about to lift the lid.
Savannah continued to climb out of the car.
If for some reason Carolyn didn’t want her to go inside, she was all the more determined to do so.
“Don’t you worry none, darlin’. It’s no trouble at all,” Savannah said, her tone as sweet as Georgia acacia honey.
“But you already drove me here and—”
Carolyn’s objection fell flat as Savannah beckoned her out of the car and led the way to the clinic’s front door.
“I need to pick up some more of those ear drops for Diamante anyway. I’m about out,” Savannah said, trying to sound casual. Trying to sound like she wasn’t lying enough to set her bloomers ablaze at any given moment.
She wasn’t even remotely close to being “about out.” But with any luck, maybe Carolyn wouldn’t recall how recent her last visit had been.
“If you’ve gone through all of that medication already,” Carolyn replied, giving her a suspicious look as they passed through the door, “then you’re using way too much. That bottle should have lasted you two months at least, not two and a half weeks.”
Okay, Savannah thought. Dr. Carolyn keeps track of such things. A very close watch. Good to know.
She abided by a personal code: Unless absolutely necessary, like in the line of duty, don’t lie. But if you do, try not to lie to smart people, who will catch you.
She had been taught a better, stricter code by Granny. But somewhere along the line, she had decided it was a tough old world out there and one had to be practical about such matters.
Especially cops, private detectives, and the mothers of small boys.
When they walked into the clinic’s main waiting room, Savannah was surprised to see how many patients and their masters were present. All different species of pets were enclosed in carriers, wrapped in towels and held on laps, while others sat patiently and obediently at their owners’ feet, or ran around, sniffing the other critters’ backsides and making a general nuisance of themselves.
But it was the owners who captured Savannah’s attention. Because of the way they looked at Carolyn.
The quick, darting glances were unmistakable, filled with some compassion, empathy, and respect. But most were pure curiosity.
During her years as a police officer, Savannah had seen thousands of such expressions on the faces of lookie-loos, the morbidly curious who drove oh-so-slowly past traffic accidents, fender benders and head-on catastrophes alike, hoping to catch a glimpse of the evidence of someone else’s misery.
The gorier, the better.
Back in those days she would have waved them on, assuring them there was “nothing to see.”
Even if there was.
Especially if there was.
Most citizens didn’t know what a police officer knew: Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. It’s part of you forever. A terrible part with the power to wake you at night from dreams that gave you soul-deep shivers and cold, drenching sweats.
Yes, she thought, they’re looking at their vet like she’s a vehicle accident with fatalities.
For all practical purposes, she is, was her next thought. People will be people. They just can’t help themselves.
She wondered how many of them had set their appointments days ago, versus how many had decided that very morning that Fido or Fluffy simply couldn’t wait another day to have their toenails trimmed.
One sideways glance at Carolyn told Savannah that she, too, had noticed the crowd and the intense scrutiny they were giving their favorite vet. Savannah wondered if Carolyn might be regretting her decision to return to work so quickly after her tragedy.
But a moment later, the waiting room assembly was the last thing on Savannah’s mind as she saw a young woman hurry from behind the desk in the office area, and rush toward Carolyn, her arms outstretched.
Savannah recognized her instantly. She was the young, distraught redhead whom Savannah had seen leaving the party in tears the day before. The one who had reluctantly given Savannah directions to the llama barn and then had practically laid down rubber as she peeled off, making her hasty escape.
Right in the middle of the room, in full view of those waiting, the red-haired beauty grabbed Carolyn around the waist and hugged her tightly for what seemed like an extraordinarily long time.
As they embraced, the redhead looked over Carolyn’s shoulder and saw Sa
vannah.
It was obvious to Savannah that she recognized her, too. The woman’s initial reaction to seeing Savannah was a combination of displeasure and uneasiness that bordered on fear.
Why would she be afraid and unhappy to cross paths with me? Savannah asked herself. It’s not like I’m going to arrest her.
Savannah quickly reminded herself that she had a husband who could, and might, if Savannah uncovered some felonious reason why this gal couldn’t look her straight in the eye.
“I’m so glad you came in,” Savannah heard Carolyn whisper to her. “I was surprised when you said you would. So pleased. I didn’t think you would, under the circumstances. Thank you.”
Okay, so she’s probably the one Carolyn was talking to on the phone, Savannah surmised.
“I’d do anything for you, Carolyn,” the young woman replied, also whispering. “You know that.”
Carolyn ended the embrace and looked around the room. Everyone waiting there, even their various pets, seemed fascinated by this public and somewhat intimate exchange between the two women.
For a moment, Savannah wondered if maybe the two had a history, a romantic one. She also entertained the thought that such a relationship might have presented a problem, considering that until yesterday, Carolyn had been married.
On the other hand, they might just be close friends, Savannah reminded herself. She and Tammy made spectacles of themselves on more than one occasion when either extremely happy, upset, or sad. What were a few hugs, kisses, and tears among best buddies?
Something told Savannah that this woman was the reason Carolyn hadn’t wanted her to come inside the clinic with her.
Savannah had every intention of keeping the question “Why?” front and center in her mind until she had a satisfactory answer.
Savannah stood, waiting for Carolyn to make the next move. Perhaps introduce her? Tell her to pick up the ear meds they both knew she didn’t need or . . . ?
“Savannah,” Carolyn said, “I’d like to introduce you to my dear friend and former assistant, Patrice Conway.”
A Few Drops of Bitters Page 11
